


Laev

by depresane



Series: detached TiNTiGTiN scenes [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Awkwardness, Dark Elves, Dating, F/F, Fictional Languages, Half-Elves, Laughter, Name Changes, Rashemi, fantastic slice of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depresane/pseuds/depresane
Summary: Viconia: Don't brag that you can speak several languages. x.xVerkorir: Luuuba.
Relationships: Female Charname & Viconia DeVir, Female Charname/Viconia DeVir, at this point & smoothly becomes /
Series: detached TiNTiGTiN scenes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472414
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Laev

For unknown reasons, the bathhouse was less crowded than usual.  
Vissenvaib chose a bathtub to sit in. Verkorir joined her.  
The sorceress closed her eyes for a moment. "Damn it, I need new clothes."  
"Maybe that yuan-ti has fireproof robes for sale."  
"Maybeee? But when will we have time to go there again? With the assassins, the half-functioning cure... Wait. Where's the rest?"  
"Um..."  
Vissenvaib turned around in confusion. "Huh?!" Only to see Imoen at the far, far end of the room. "Wha'?! Why are they there!? Come on! Am I supposed to... But I specifically- - Argh!"  
"Vissen."  
She stopped tossing.  
"They left us alone on purpose."  
"Have I done something that offended them?"  
"No. They're doing this for _us_."  
She still frowned, processing the situation. "They should have SAID so! Especially Imu. She should know by now. Gaah!"  
"Can you turn back around?"  
"Mmgh." She did, but also folded her arms and tensed her shoulders.  
"Oh dear," sighed Verkorir, "Do you ever get tired of yourself?"  
"Every single day."  
"Mm. Should have figured."  
"Whateverrr. The topic is over."  
"Alright."  
She looked at Vissenvaib: her messy curls from the humid weather, sparkling skin indicating the magical bond with stars, pine green eyes with a red spot on the left iris, expressive ears, and the subtle bump on her nose bridge.  
"Sarash dalsien," the Ilythiiri thought in Espruar, Small thunder.  
"How would you say, «tiny tempest,» in Rashemi?"  
"Mala buzha. Although there isn't such a thing..."  
"Weeell..." Verkorir smirked.  
"Me? Ugh. I guess. But don't call me that. It ain't cute."  
"Not even now?"  
"Ever."  
"Then, how to say, «wisdom?»"  
"Oof. There's mudrost, as in the feature of being wise. But if you're going for my name, then you're looking for «knowledge,» and that's vĭedza. With voiced ts. And when it's used in names... The consonant becomes alveolo-palatal."  
"A what?"  
"Just stick to zhaunil."  
"Doesn't that bother you?"  
The half-elf pondered. "It should. But I'm just..." She shrugged. "Detached. A language like many other languages. Same with Dwarven languages. SOMEtimes fear kicks in but... not from the «zhaunil» word."  
"Ah. So that aleo-palta consonant...?"  
"It's dź. I don't know how to intruct you."  
"Fine. So, is that what's stopping you from changing your name?"  
"A little bit, but also I don't know how to complete my Rashemi name. I need the second component."  
"To replace «vaib.»"  
"Yup." At last, the sorceress glanced at the dark elf. "And how can I call you?"  
"Good question. I'm still not used to Verkorir. And ir alone doesn't sound that elegant."  
"There's lareth."  
"Right, but there was someone I saw..."  
"Uu. Nevermind, then. Uh, I know. Seh ern," Soft winter.  
She rolled her eyes.  
"Eso, seh la," Also, soft night.  
"I mean..."  
Vissenvaib squinted. "Mm. Nothing descriptive? Ne, itae, Vertae."  
The pilgrim rose her ears and tensed her mouth.  
But the audacious continued with a smile, "Serdeñko, serdechko, luba... Wait, I should prolong the syllable, like the old ways: luuuba. Mila, tsudesna, spakoĭna, zatsna, mile zmĭarkanĭe, zorka, zorechka... A, bez opisanĭa. To ĭuzhe nĭe vĭem."  
"I can't reply to any of those."  
"Uuh, but you can?"  
"Usstan xuat zhaun," I don't know.  
"Vĭes, vĭes," You do know.  
Verkorir cleared her throat. "Luuuba." Her attempt came across as dry and forced.  
Touched though she was, Vissenvaib chuckled. "Uh. But I said earlier..."  
"Oh. Zhaunil. Dosst ilhar," she cussed, giggling and blushing.  
The half-elf gazed as if her fellow Ilythiiri were a majestic eagle with smooth feathers... and that eagle lost balance, flipped over, fell on its back, extended its claws, and stared helplessly with both eyes. She needed that sight.  
She whispered softly, "Luba, ostañ," Beloved, stay.  
Verkorir covered her face slightly. She remembered the verb from Vissenvaib's prayer-song. "Usstan xal," I might.


End file.
